Russian Roulette
by TheMalhamBird
Summary: In the wake of the death of the Furans, a man calling himself Maximilian Nero lets himself in to Gregori's secret base and invites him to take over the crumbling remnants of the Furans' empire. He claims he used to work as the Furans deputy, but the seething hatred he displays towards them hints at something else. Who is Nero, really? Are the Furans truly dead? And what is GLOVE..?
1. Chapter 1

**NOTES**

 **I know nothing about Russia.**

 **I wanted to explore the aftermath of the Furan's clash with GLOVE first time round, and I also wanted to explore the character of Gregori Leonov more. Gregori was one of the few people we saw interact with Nero purely as friends and equals, rather than as staff, pupil, former pupil, or savoir and I wanted to explore that relationship- how does Nero react when forced to work with someone who does not, ultimately, have to defer to him. I** _ **suspect**_ **not very well. I am also curious as to what it takes for Nero to learn how trust someone as well as how he might have been as 'a dangerous, wild predator' as Number One described him in** _ **The Higher Institute of Villainous Education.**_ **Characters will likely be OOC- the Nero here is rather more reckless and callous than the experienced man we see in the books, and the extent of our information about Gregori is Russian, eventually marries and has children, possibly too curious for his own good, beats Max in card games. That's it. That's the sum total of what we know.**

 **Having said that, I hope you enjoy this. I am not Mark Walden, I don't own HIVE and this is not canon.**

 **It's built around the headcanon that the Furans initially worked for GLOVE, then split off/were kicked out. It is set in the week immediately following Elena's death.**

 **If the speech is in** _italics_ , **the speaker is talking in Russian.**

 **There is some swearing- not masses of it, but some. It isn't used for the sake of it, it's used because Nero is currently a volatile train wreck waiting to happen. Further warnings will be added to each chapter.**

 _St Petersburg._

The domed spires of the city gleamed in the frozen light of dawn, the shrunken sun bleaching the white-blue sky a dull, lifeless yellow. Something in the city had changed- not on the surface, perhaps, but underneath, a subtle, sudden shift in the atmosphere as if news of the death of a great and terrible power was slowly making its way from person to person. The city felt...empty.

The atmosphere set Gregori Leonov on edge as he walked through the streets, and he found himself looking over his shoulder more often than usual as he made his way from his 'public' house- that of a moderately successful banker devoted to charity works and public service- to his private one- the one he ran his criminal enterprises from that was disguised as some outpost of the Kremlin. The soldiers outside seemed undisturbed; they stood to attention as he walked up to them and keyed his pin in to the reader, letting him pass through without suggesting that something may be wrong.

Inside, the house was quiet.

That was not unusual in and of itself; he was often the first person to arrive in the morning. But something, _something-_

It smelt of vodka.

Gregori was striding towards the kitchen before his mind had fully made the connection, drawing his revolver as he moved soundlessly towards the kitchen door and kicked it open-

" _There's really no need to be so melodramatic."_

A young man, barely into his twenties sat with his hands raised in what would have been a gesture of surrender if it weren't for the shot of vodka in his left hand, and the fact he was leaning back in the chair with his highly polished shoes on the table. A slightly battered, massive grey fur coat enveloped him; he had sleek, raven black hair pulled away from his face in a lose pony tail and a small, neatly trimmed anchor beard. Bright blue eyes watched Gregori with a glittering insolence; apparently the stranger was unconcerned about the loaded gun being pointed at him.

" _Who are you?"_ Gregori asked. _"What are you doing in my house?"_

" _It's not your house,"_ The stranger replied. He tossed town the vodka and slammed the glass on the table. _"You wouldn't keep vodka this crap in your house."_

" _I asked you who you were."_ Gregori growled, pointing the revolver straight between the man's eyes.

" _You know Anastasia Furan and her siblings are dead?"_ the man replied.

What?

That wasn't possible. The Furans were untouchable, invincible. They ran in higher criminal circles than Gregori, they were higher than the mafia. Rumours suggested that they had a powerful backer, someone with their fingers in a lot of different stolen pies.

" _How do you know this?"_ Gregori demanded. _"Who are you?"_

" _I used to work for Madame Furan. Not very important. Not_ un _important, either. I could probably fill the vacuum they'll leave...if I have the right support."_

He was lying, of course. A man of middling importance would not be so arrogant as to believe that they could replace a major crime syndicate with help from outside the organisation. One of the deputies, unpopular with the others, perhaps, but strong and ruthless enough to stage a coup. But why come to him? Why come to Gregori Leonov for help?

" _Who are you?"_ he asked again.

The man smiled. "My name," he said in English, "is Maximillian Nero."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N Warning for mention of possible suicide, and alcohol abuse.**

 **Also, I found out that the Russian variation of Elena is Yelena, which I'm now head-cannoning was Nero's private name for her. Incidentally since it doesn't really matter to this fic, the Russian variation of Maximillian is Maksamilyan, which is what I've decided Elena called him.**

" _Impress me then."_ Leonov said. " _How would you take over a criminal empire without getting your head shot off by your rivals?"_

" _I've killed my rivals."_ Nero smiled, and took another shot of vodka, running his tongue over pointed teeth. _"Slit their throats whilst they sat at the desks and left them there for the guards to find. Then I killed their underlings. And the underlings' underlings who were overly ambitious? I killed them to."_ He didn't bother to conceal the fact his smile was widening as remembered the feel of blood dripping through his fingers. Each drop of warm, crimson liquid that had spurted from the neck of people who had _worked_ for Furan had felt almost, _almost_ as good as he imagined it would feel to have Furan's blood staining his hands...a Furan's blood... _Yelena's_ blood ...

Nero grabbed the bottle of vodka. It was two thirds empty all ready; he didn't bother with the pathetically _small_ glass. Raising the bottle to his lips, he drained the entire thing in a matter of seconds. Allowing the bottle to fall from his hands and smash on the floor. Gregori Leonov had a poor taste in vodka; Yelena would have used the to clean the drainpipes. He snorted to himself at the irony- Monroe had stopped him drinking drain cleaner only two nights ago. Nero still couldn't work out if he'd intentionally reached for the stuff or had mistaken it for tequila. A part of him, the razor sharp, logical and intelligent part of his mind, told him that the poor clarity was Not A Good Thing. The rest of his brain was fogged over with rage and grief and ethanol fumes. It was a good feeling, it kept him on a near constant adrenaline high and it made him dangerous, it was a _good feeling._

" _You've killed all the other people within the organisation who could take permanent charge of the it?"_ Gregori Leonov _'_ s growl sliced across his thoughts.

" _Yes,"_ Nero replied. _"It was the most fun I'd had in a while."_

Leonov snorted. _"You find killing fun?"_ There was evident condescension in his voice.

" _On that occasion,"_ Nero said. _"I also enjoy watercolour, opera and the ballet."_

Leonov laughed.

The sound was sudden and unexpected, a deep belly laugh that shook the Russian man's broad shoulders. _"That is a coincidence. I also enjoy ballet."_ He said. _"I have tickets for the Mariinisky Ballet's La Bayadere tonight. I was going to take my lieutenant. Unfortunately, he let me down the day before yesterday and I had him thrown out. Unfortunately, we were several stories up at the time. Maybe you should accompany me instead."_

Nero smiled, both at the subtlety of the job offer and the threat. Oh yes, he could see why Number One had has eyes on this one.

" _I would be honoured."_

" _Good."_ Gregori said. _"The rest of my staff will be arriving shortly. I have some other schemes running but they can take care of it. You are going to tell me everything about yourself and your place with the Furan's ."_ He paused, then levelled the pistol back between Nero's eyes. _"And if I suspect you of lying, I will not hesitate to kill you"_

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